


In the Back of Your Mind

by hsilence



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Brothers, Childhood Friends, Fluff, M/M, Old ROX ftw, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 20:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15781932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hsilence/pseuds/hsilence
Summary: "Do I know you?""...No?""Your face is familiar. Are you sure?""I have no idea what you're talking about," Wangho coughed, turning away and letting out a chain of profanities under his breath. It's just his luck.Wangho swears he deserves a good karma. But apparently the world was out to prove him wrong.





	In the Back of Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I played around with their age~. Peanut is the youngest, Faker + wolf + Bang + Kuro + Smeb are the same age (3rd year in university) and Gorilla + Pray the same age as well (4th year).
> 
> ENJOYY

 

 

“It’s _never_ like that,” Wangho slurs, all but past the point of being even remotely sober, “I _tried,_ really, I did.” 

“Yes, yes,” Bumhyeon nodded along, the sympathetic friend he is, smiling nervously at Wangho slamming his drink drown and splashing it in the process.

“Is it me?” Wangho whined while Seohaeng shook his head at the familiar course the conversation was taking. It was always the same; after graduating high school, the 4 of them inevitably expected at least once every month for Wangho to get drunk off his ass and rattle out the details of his failed relationships that never made past their one-month expiration date.

Wangho, despite all his good traits that made him an invaluable friend, was as good at relationships as he was at studying. Meaning he was miserable at it, and was possibly destined to fail every one of them.

“As much as I love you, this is getting stale,” Kyungho sighed, shaking his head at his younger brother. He pried the drink away from his hands, downing the rest for himself. It was entertaining at first, to have his brother get shit-faced, crying over some girl that every one of them knew he will forget by the next day. But it’s been nearly two years since they had gone off to college with Wangho choosing not to. And it was a huge understatement to say that it was getting repetitive. 

“Shuddup, what do _you_ know about love, all you do are heartless one night stands,” Wangho snapped, as much as he could with his blurred speech, pointing an accusing finger at his brother. Seohaeng and Jongin broke out laughing at Kyungho’s gaping face, undeterred by the couple of stares they earned.

“You brat,” Kyungho hissed, throwing a beer cap and silently rejoicing in the satisfying smack it made against Wangho’s forehead. 

“Owwwww,” he pouted, rubbing at his head. “It _is_ me, isn't it?”

“There there, if you don't play the crappy boyfriend with your face, what would that leave us,” Jong-in clapped his back, a little too hard to be comforting and Wangho groaned into the table, starting to feel nauseated.

“Hey, we should get going, I’m pretty sure Wangho has a morning shift tomorrow,” he hears Beomhyun speak and gosh, he is _such_ a good friend. He probably doesn’t tell him enough. 

“Hyung,” he grabs on to Beomhyun’s shirt and looks up at him in all earnest, “you are an amazing friend, you know that right?” 

Beomhyun smiles and ruffles his hair and he turns to glare at his stupid older brother, who doesn't know a thing about being comforting.

“What did I do now?!” Kyungho grumbles and Wangho pointedly decides to ignore the fact that he’s picking up his jacket and bag for him. 

“You should learn from Beomhyun-hyung,” he retorted. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kyungho rolls his eyes before getting up. He feels Jongin and Kyungho lift him up and he knows its them because the two of them are the strongest. He really does try to walk on his own but fails miserably and ends up tumbling onto a stranger while his two companions desperately grapple at him. And he really does try, again, to stand up by himself but he swears that his arms were not working as they should have been. 

“Oh fuck, sorry about that,” Kyungho pulls him off of the stranger and he thinks he hears a groan beneath him and he vaguely recalls hoping that the guy hasn’t broken anything. But then, everything becomes a blur after that, sounds and all, because he was trying his damnedest to keep everything down in his stomach. 

“Sorry, this guy’s completely gone,” Bumhyeon apologised with a bow, polite as ever.

“Hey! Jongin and Bumhyeon-hyung?”

“Wha-, Junsik?”

“Yeah, what are you guys doing here?”

“Just grabbing a drink with some old friends, you?’

“Same here.”

“Wait, Wangho-.”

“Wangho!” 

“…” 

“Ohhh shit.”

“…” 

 

§§§

 

The next morning, Wangho swears to himself, for the umpteenth time, that he will never, ever, _ever_ get drunk again. 

‘Yeah right,’ he huffs, knowing better than anyone to trust himself. He yawned, pulling his denim jacket from sliding down his shoulder. It was 7:30 in the morning and he was trying to piece together the broken memories from last night on his way to his work at an ungodly hour.

‘I was drinking with them…and…and.…’

He groaned into his hand, barely recalling tripping over a stranger and puking his guts out right on the guy, then passing out. After that, he doesn't even remember how he came backhome.

“If the guy had been dumped before, he would understand…right,” he muttered, apologising silently to the faceless person that suffered the ugly side of his break up. 

His workplace was a 10 minute bus ride from his small one-room apartment that he usually bikes, but with his hangover, that was asking to be sent straight to the ER. It was a dainty little cafe that he was frankly proud to work in. Located in midst of small alleyways where there were several, locally owned restaurants, bakeries and cafes, it was within the bustling university district where Kyungho and Seohaeng attends K University. It was a difficult place to find if you’re not looking for it and most of the customers they got were regulars or travellers. 

He doesn't bother hiding his annoyance when he sees his coworker, who also happens to be the manager, opening up the cafe. She was an energetic 30 year old who looks like she’s 20 and she greets him with a shit-eating grin and extra loudly because she definitely knows how hungover he is. 

“Hey there Wangho, looking fresh as alway,” she grins, letting go of the metal door shutter half way and he winced at the crashing sound, glaring as best as he could at his boss. 

“When am I ever not,” he replies flatly, waiting for her to unlock the shop. 

“I can’t blame you for enjoying your 20s after all,” she laughs before pushing open the cafe door. The interior of the small cafe was, in his opinion, pleasantly quaint. Instead of the marbles floors and metal furnitures that many of the cafes these days go for, it leaned more towards being vintage, with dried flowers on the wall and wooden, antique-looking furnitures. He didn’t have a problem with the design but keeping the rust off of basically everything proved to be a mindblowingly tedious task. 

The two of them, no matter how tiring he found her energy sometimes, worked very well together. It’s been roughly two years since he came to her cafe for a jobright after dropping out of high school and they've become a well oiled machine along with their other full-timer. He walked towards the small staff room just behind the bar, pulling out the black button up and the brown barista apron that tied only around his waist from his locker. 

He changed lazily and tied the knot behind him, reminding himself to get the cloth laundered because it was starting to look downright filthy. 

“Wangho! Can you redo the blackboard?” 

“Sure,” he shouted back, cracking his shoulder blades and back. ‘Ready to work,’ he thought, grabbing the chalk from behind the counter on his way to heave the foldable black chalkboard outside and unfolding it just besides the door. There wasn’t much purpose to the blackboard; before he worked at the cafe, the manager used to only write down their specials for the week but ever since he wrote down a favourite quote of his on a whim, she had laughed boisterously, claiming that she liked it and demanded that he put up a new one every day.

‘What to write…’ he mused, tapping the board. It was early September, just the beginning of Autumn and it was the nicest time of the year, weather wise. ‘Autumn huh…then its gotta be this.’ 

He scribbles on the chalkboard, flinching at the unpleasant sound of the chalk scratching. Just as he finished, he hears a footstep behind him and he stands up, bowing before he got a good look at the person. 

“Welcome! We just opened, you can go ahead” he greets, putting the chalk into the pocket in front of his apron and holding the door open. When he doesn't hear the customer move, he looks back and he thinks his breath catches but he isn’t quite sure because his brain stopped functioning at all.

Their first customer of the day was holding a bike in his one hand and an expensive looking camera in the other. He slowly took in his relatively tall and thin stature covered by his black cross bag, his worn-in jeans, a clean white t-shirt with a navy hoodie jacket. But it was his face that made him pale and curse his karma.

‘Holy crap,’ he swore, turning away. ‘Please don’t remember, please don’t remember, please don’t rememb-.’

“Do I know you?” 

And _of course_ he remembers. Who would forget the face of someone who threw up all over your crotch just the night before.

“...No?” 

“Your face is familiar. Are you sure?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he coughed, keeping his back towards the stranger and letting out a chain of profanities under his breath. It’s just his luck. In his drunken haze, he had barely gotten a good look at the stranger but it was unmistakably him.

“…Is that so?” he asked, sounding way less than convinced.

“Yup, yes, yeah, definitely,” he nodded his head vigorously, still refusing to turn around. There is an awkward pause between them and he can only imagine how he looks, with his back turned stubbornly towards the stranger and lying through his teeth.

“Uhhh, you know what?” he improvises, his brain turning probably a bit too fast for his hungover self, “We aren’t open yet, uh, still preparing, you know, have no idea when we’re gonna open so better come back some other day, sorry!” 

And he slams the door shut behind him with a resounding ‘what the fuck did I just do’ running through his head. 

“Wangho!! What the hell was that?” the manager yells him at him from the supply storage. 

“Nothing!” he yells back, groaning into his hand as he slumps down onto a nearby chair. 

“Nothing?” 

“Yeah, nothing,” he sighs, “Just me being a stupid.” 

 

§§§

 

Sanghyeok stared, dumbfound, the sound of the door slamming still ringing in his ears. 

‘Did I say something wrong?’ he mused, ‘Maybe it isn’t him after all.’ 

But he definitely remembers his face; it wasn’t an easy face to forget and puking on you is one way to leave a strong impression. He looks at the time and he still has hours to go before his first class. And he knows his two friends will probably be passed out until noon so there was no point looking for them. 

‘I suppose I’ll just find someplace else,’ he decides, and is about to move on when he catches the messy handwriting on the blackboard. 

“Sometimes a fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions, Haruki Murakami…?” he read out loud, pleasantly surprised.

‘ _Kafka on the Shore?_ ’ he wondered, reaching for his camera and taking a shot of the chalkboard. The handwriting wasn’t nice at all but it fit in well with its background. It was refreshing, seeing a quote from one of his favourite authors while his friends avoided reading any kind books like the plague. He stares at the shut door before pulling his bike along. 

Maybe he’ll give the place another shot some other day. 

 

§§§

 

Wangho sighs, losing count for the day, as they closed down the cafe. He may be young but the hangover still took a toll on him if he worked the day after. It was just past 9pm; they closed early on Mondays and the weekends. 

“Well done for today,” his manager pats him on the shoulder with a strength that somehow rivalled Jong-in’s. 

“Ugh, when’s Gyeonghwan-hyung coming back?” he groans, feeling the knot in his shoulders before pulling off the apron.

“Some time next week,” she hums, finishing putting up the last chair. 

“Some time? Shouldn’t you be more aware of your employee’s schedule?”

“With you perhaps,” she grins, “but with him, no.”

“What’s up with that double standard!” he whines, getting nothing but a laugh for an explanation. “Hmph, well I’m turning in.”

“Yes, yes, don’t be late for your shift tomorrow!” 

“I’m never late!” he threw back and grumbled about careless bosses when he heard her laugh even harder through the front door. 

He’s waiting for his bus when his phone buzzed. He picks up the call without checking the caller ID because there were only 3 possible people who would call him. 

“Hello?”

“Wangho,” Kyungho answered with his signature drawl. 

“What’s up?” 

“Did you get home okay yesterday?”

“Isn’t it a bit late for that?” he snorts. 

“Shut up you brat, I got back to the dorms late thanks to your drunken ass and I had to stall outside until the curfew hours were over,” Kyungho cursed and while Wangho did feel bad for him, he still sniggered, earning even more profanities from his older brother.

“Oh my, oh my, do you kiss our mother with that mouth~,” he cackled when Kyungho spewed out the most creative swear words he’s heard in a while. “Why didn’t you stay at my place for the night?”

“I thought I could get back in time, but apparently not,” Kyungho sighed. “You remember anything from last night?”

“Please don’t remind me,” he moaned, and he could hear Kyungho snicker through the phone. 

“Apparently, the guy you puked on, he was a friend of Bumhyeon and Jongin hyung’s faculty hubae.”

“Seriously?” 

“Yup,” Kyungho practically sings, obviously enjoying his pain like the sadist brother he is. 

“Ugh, I know you’re going to enjoy this and I probably shouldn’t tell you but, I ran into him this morning,” Wangho sighed. 

“What? Where?” 

“He came to the cafe,” he explained. 

“What the fuck,” Kyung laughed and Wangho flinched because even through the phone, his laugh was so damn _loud_. “What are the chances?!”

“Exactly. What’s more, I panicked and shut the door on his face.”

“Oh shit, this makes yesterday night worth it,” Kyungho gasps for breath. 

“Don’t. I feel so bad,” he groans into his hand. 

“No worries little brother, you’ll be able to cherish the moment forever.”

“Huh?”

“Seohaeng took the privilege of taking this little clip,” Kyungho sang and Wangho felt his phone buzz. He opened the message from Kyungho and it took a moment for the clip to download but the moment the pixels disappeared he choked. 

“How do you like it,” Kyungho asks, just plain _evil_ in his voice. 

“Oh screw you guys,” he snapped, hanging up on his poor excuse of a brother. He replayed the clip, which was just 10 seconds of him tripping over and making wretched noises as he puked out last night’s contents of his stomach on to the poor, poor stranger. He couldn’t make out the face of the stranger and hopefully, for the sake of his self preservation, he wouldn’t have to ever see it again.

 

§§§

 

The next day, he came in for another morning shift. He was about 10 minutes late buthe knew his manager will forgive him if he stayed behind to close down the cafe. 

 

‘I can’t wait till Gyeonghwan-hyung comes back,’ he muttered, suddenly missing the veteran barista and his soft voice that usually juxtaposes the content of his speech. 

He turns the corner and he sees that the manager had already opened up and the blackboard was outside with chalk resting on the ground. He grinned and jogged towards the blackboard, already having thought of a quote on his way here. He kneeled down and scribbled on the short quote. He hums, satisfied at how it looks and pushed open the cafe door, ready to start his day fresh. Just as he was about to head in, he catches a silhouette from the corner of his eyes and it was _him_ again, with his camera and his bicycle. 

As soon as he sees him, he turns to run back into the cafe like the coward he is but the door had closed and he ends up running right into it. 

“Owwww,” he rubs at his nose, his eyes watering, and jumps when he hears the stranger speak. 

“Is it open this time around?” he asks, sounding all kinds of uncertain, and Wangho, without losing his conscience, couldn’t shut the door on the stranger’s face for the second time.

“Ahahah…Come on in,” Wangho let out a weak laugh, all the while trying to keep composure from running around screaming with his apron pulled over his head.

“‘Chance encounters are what keeps us going’…Another one from _Kafka on the Shore?_ ” 

“You know that quote?” despite himself, Wangho turned to stare, momentarily taken aback. “And the book?” 

“Of course I do, it’s-,” the stranger started, looking up from the chalkboard. It only took a split second for the stranger’s face to morph into certainty.

“It is you!” 

“Uh-,” he could feel the cold sweat forming on his back and he doesn’t remember having felt this driven into a corner before. The awkward silence is broken by his manager’s animated voice that rang from inside the cafe. 

“Hmm? What is this, your friend? I didn’t know you had friends besides those four goofballs you are always meeting up with.”

She was grinning with her hands on her hip, completely oblivious to the situation. 

‘I know she’s not doing this on purpose but damn her,’ he curses, doing his best to not plant his face into the wall. 

“Wangho, let him in, it’s not nice to keep the customers waiting,” she throws over her shoulder before turning away. 

He sighed, giving up on the hope that he won’t have to face the guy and stepped aside, opening the door. “…I swear I don’t usually go around puking on strangers,” he muttered but immediately regretting it as soon as it left his mouth. 

“…Should I consider myself lucky?” the stranger asked while walking past him, with no real venom in his voice. 

“Well, not exactly…,” he walked inside after him, letting the door close behind him with a soft thump “Sit anywhere you like, I’ll bring you the menu.” 

He kept his head down the whole time because this was just _humiliating_ him to his core. ‘What are the chances…’ he grumbles, walking into the staff locker and changing as slowly as possible. He picks up the thin menu from the counter and walked towards the stranger who had sat himself down at the corner. The cafe was relatively small, only big enough for 30 to 40 customers at most. 

“Here you go,” he slides the menu on the table, watching the thin, elegant looking hand pick it up. He fidgeted on his spot, suddenly feeling awkward doing what he had done hundreds of times over. 

“You like Murakami’s books?” the stranger spoke up, looking up at him from his spot and Wangho perked up at one of his all-time favourite author’s name. 

“Yeah! I read one of his books for the first time in high school. Then I read all of his books that I could find in the school library. I really wanted to learn Japanese back then, just so I can read the original version. The translation and the original just can’t compare, you know?” he chattered on, not aware that he was rambling until the cafe suddenly seemed dead silent once he had stopped.

“Crap…Sorry,” he mumbled, blushing furiously, and hastily pulling out a pencil and notepad, “Uh, what would you like to order?” 

“I’ll just have black coffee,” the stranger murmurs, handing him back the menu and Wangho wasn’t sure but he thinks that he might be smiling which puts him back at ease. 

“Right,” he hurried towards the counter, stealing glances at him the entire time he brewed the drink from the expresso machine. He brings the drink over, careful not to spill. “Here you go.” 

“I read his book in high school too,” the stranger starts and Wangho’s eyes widen at the admission.

“You did?” 

“Mhmm. One of my favourites was Kafka on the Shore. Although for the most part, I like his earlier books better.”

“The short stories?”

“Yeah,” the stranger, sipped at his coffee, glancing at him. 

“Right!” Wangho exclaimed, getting excited. “Not that I have anything against his longer ones but I think his short stories had a lot to offer too! You could say that they are just shallower version of his newer books but-,” he halts and his face lights up , realising he was on a rant again. “Um, sorry-.”

“Yeah?” the guy was looking up at him with a bemused face and Wangho huffed. 

“So...um, your name?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been constantly referring to you as ‘the stranger I puked on’ I think if I’m going to keep seeing you like this, it’s better I know your name.”

“Sanghyeok,” he replied, taking a sip from his drink. 

“Right.”

“And you’re Wangho.”

“Huh? How do you know mine?”

“Because you were the only one passed out while the introductions were going around,” Sanghyeok informed him, this time definitely looking amused. 

“…Right,” he muttered, wondering how long he’s going to have to live with that story. “I’ll be just over there if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” 

Wangho walked towards the counter, emptying the coffee ground. The cafe was comfortably silent with soft jazz music playing in the background. The sun was starting to spill in, lighting up patches of the cafe. His eyes drifted towards Sanghyeok who was absorbed in looking at whatever was on his camera. His fingers really did look elegant, one holding the black camera gingerly and the other rotating the lens. He was wearing black jeans with a white hoodie today. His glasses hid most of his face but the sharp lines of jaws were evident. 

‘Now that I think about it, he kind of seems familiar,’ he wondered, searching his memories. ‘But then again, he does have a common face.” 

‘Shit,’ he jumped when Sanghyeok glanced at him, and he blushed, feeling as if he’s been caught doing something shameful. He busied himself wiping down the counter and checking the inventory, but he couldn’t help catching glimpses of him from the corner of his eyes the entire time. ‘Well, he’ll probably stop coming around soon enough. I’ll forget about him then.’ 

 

§§§

 

Sanghyeok yawned, trying to keep his attention on the professor. But it was nearing 5pm and half the class was asleep. He started doodling on his note, which were mostly unrecognisable scribbles and squiggly lines that didn’t amount to anything. He let his pen wonder on the paper and before he knew it, he had scribbled on the quote he had seen at the cafe today. 

He smiled when he remembered the small barista running into the door and rambling on about Murakami like it was the most exciting thing in the world. It was a pleasant break from his daily grind and it had kept him in a good mood for the entire day. 

‘Should I go again tomorrow,’ he wondered, ‘Or is that weird?’ 

He really had liked the cafe; it was quiet and the trickle of customers was constant but thin and he got through quite a lot of his work. ‘And he was fun to talk to,’ he thought, recalling the way he lit up the moment he mentioned the author’s name. ‘Although it was mostly him talking.’

He only realised the class was over when loud chatters of the students started. He swiped his belongings into his backpack and shouldered his way out of the crowded lecture hall. He was supposed to meet Jaewan at his workplace for dinner with Junsik and he had promised that he won’t be late this time around; rather he can’t be late because he knew that the jerks would make him pay if he was. He grunted when he ran into someone’s shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he muttered and was about to walk past when an exclamation stopped him.

“You!” 

He turned around, wondering if he had stirred up trouble. But the stranger only looked surprised and not angry; it took him a moment but he also exclaimed when he recognised his face.

“From the bar?” he asked, remembering the glasses guy who had pulled Wangho off of him. 

“Yeah! That’s me,” he grinned offering his hand which he took hesitantly. “Can’t believe we are in the same university.” 

“I suppose,” he mused, trying to recall the guy’s name to no avail. 

“It’s Kyungho,” he offered, virtually exuding friendliness, “Sanghyeok, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I hear you ran into my brother again.”

“Brother?”

“The guy who puked all over you? He’s my younger brother,” he laughed, and Sanghyeok could somewhat see the resemblance, although their demeanour was completely different. 

“Right,” Sanghyeok nodded, completely lost on how to proceed; he was never apt at making small talk, let alone friends. 

“Ah, crap, I have to go but I’ll see you around again, yeah?” Kyungho grinned and he was off running before he got to say anything. 

‘They are quite a handful, aren’t they,’ he thought, watching the elder brother practically throw himself at his friend, earning an angry scowl. He jumped when he felt his phone vibrate and he swore under his breath when he saw the caller ID and the time. He was definitely paying for dinner tonight. 

 


End file.
